The sky above Arkala Fortress was filled with crackling black energy. Dark clouds spun around Alec Thornhart like a vortex, feeding off the magic pouring from him.
Below, the battlefield was chaos. Ten thousand undead swarmed toward the front lines. Skeletons, ghouls, and hulking monsters crashed into Valhalla Knight's defenses.
Alec stood at the center of it all, high above on the fortress balcony. His hands moved fast, weaving necromantic spells that tore through enemies like paper. This wasn't just a fight—it was domination.
He felt like a god.
Every step of this plan had been calculated. Every flank. Every summon. Every drain spell. This fortress was his. It boosted his power and punished any who dared step into it.
The so-called "top guild" wouldn't last long. Their shining paladins and miracle healers were already crumbling under pressure. Alec's Abominations tore through their ranks while divine barriers blinked out one after another.
He didn't feel excitement. He felt cold certainty. This wasn't hope—it was math. Strategy and control.
But then… something changed.
It started as a sound. A low hum, barely noticeable, cutting through the noise of war. Then it grew louder. Sharp. Piercing.
Alec froze. His instincts screamed at him—something was wrong. This wasn't one of their spells. It wasn't holy magic, ut was something else.
His eyes locked on a strange ripple in the middle of the battlefield. Everything around it slowed, like time itself had paused.
Before he could react, it hit.
A flash of light, brighter than anything he'd seen, exploded outward. It wasn't just light—it was pure concentrated power, and it didn't burn. It erased and unmade.
The magic ripped through his defenses like they weren't even there. His mana vanished, pulled out of him like water through a drain. His connection to his undead horde shattered in an instant.
He had no time to fight back.
The last thing he heard before it all went black were the system warnings echoing in his ears.
…
[Warning: Excessive mana depletion detected. Magical backlash imminent…]
[Warning: Vitality levels critical. Life force collapsing…]
Alec came to with those warnings still echoing in his head. The pain shooting through every inch of his body told him everything he needed to know, he'd lost the battle.
Thinking back, he realized he'd been far too reckless. He had counted on the terrain advantage of Arkala Fortress, and the relentless tide of undead under his command. He thought that would be enough to hold off Valhalla Knight's main army.
What a joke.
He'd never even considered why Valhalla Knight was called the top guild in the game. That title wasn't just for show.
He'd planned for days, calculated every possible move, risked everything—and still, they crushed him in under twenty-four hours.
With a bitter sigh, Alec lowered his gaze to check his status. His first priority was to escape. After everything he'd done, he'd definitely made enemies. And there were plenty of lesser guilds eager to cozy up to Valhalla Knight by turning him in.
If he didn't move fast, it was only a matter of time before scavengers came sniffing around. As the ninth-ranked Lich Lord in the game, Alec had no intention of dying to some no-name rookies trying to make a name for themselves.
But then he frowned. Something felt off—really off. The pain was too real, too sharp. The puncture wound near his heart was one thing… but what the hell was this corruption spreading up his left arm?
'Negative energy?'
That made no sense.
He had fully ascended into Lichdom, true Lichdom—and even reached the level of a High Lich. For someone like him, negative energy should've been as harmless as water to a fish. It shouldn't be eating away at his flesh.
'Wait—what?'
Alec's heart skipped a beat. He glanced again at his left hand… and froze. It was gray-white, stiff, lifeless—like a corpse's hand.
Most people would've screamed at the sight. But Alec didn't. He just stared, confused.
Because in the game, his avatar wasn't even supposed to have flesh. He was a skeletal Lich, carved from pale bone like polished ivory.
He shouldn't have any flesh at all.
Panic beginning to rise, Alec ignored the pain and scrambled to his feet, eyes scanning the area.
Seconds passed, then minutes.
Finally, Alec dropped back to the ground, his face grim. This wasn't Arkala. Not even close.
The buildings were all wrong—rough log structures, thick round timbers for walls, wildflowers and herbs planted in orderly rows around them. Alec knew this architectural style well. It belonged to one of the border kingdoms near the Elvenwild of Eldagara.
The style had evolved partly due to the abundance of lumber from the nearby Arenthis Forest, and partly due to the proximity to the Seven Elven Nations.
But that didn't make sense. Arenthis Forest and its neighboring lands had been destroyed years ago. He remembered that storyline vividly, how the beastfolk and dark elves had joined forces, circled around the Arenthis frontlines, and crushed the outlying kingdoms.
Each duchy had made its own desperate call. Some evacuated completely. Others chose to stand and fight.
There was even one kingdom—Carbuth, whose king died on the front lines. In the ensuing chaos, the princess triggered a forbidden necromantic ritual, transforming every last citizen into undead.
After that, Carbuth became little more than a grinding zone for junior clerics and necromancers.
Alec remembered it perfectly. That was where he'd first spawned into the game. He could still picture the blood-dimmed skies, frozen in eternal twilight—like time had stopped mid-apocalypse.
But right now… everything looked… alive.
And that scared him more than any enemy ever had.
Alec's memories of Carbuth surged back, another memory forced its way into his mind.
Marcus.
The name struck like a hammer. He was the son of a village Magistrate near Carbuth, a fervent devotee of the Princess. When her final command was given, Marcus didn't hesitate—he carved a necromantic transmutation array into his home, and with trembling fingers, tore his own heart out using his left hand.
That memory wasn't just vivid—it was consuming. It crashed through Alec's consciousness like a wave, flooding him with someone else's pain, obsession, and final moments.
His vision spun. He clutched his head, screamed silently, and collapsed again.
When he awoke, the panic had faded. Alec sat up slowly, his breath steady. Somehow, he didn't feel violated by the foreign memory. In fact, a strange calm settled in. He had already accepted the impossible truth: this wasn't a game anymore. He was in it.
He stared at his lifeless left hand and gave a rueful chuckle.
"So this was your final transformation into undeath? No wonder you ended up a Ghoul."
With a sigh, Alec rose to his feet and stepped toward the magic circle in the center of the room, its lines drawn in some unknown, crusted blood. At its center sat a dirt-smeared, shriveled heart.
He looked down at it—and for a brief moment, a flicker of warmth crossed his face.
"I never thought I'd see the day when my heart would become a game item."
Chuckling dryly, he stepped into the circle and placed his right hand on his forehead. With a deep breath, he spoke the words etched in Marcus's memory—words of necromancy, timeless and precise.
A small, flickering soul emerged from the center of his brow. It writhed in his hand, fractured and weak. Alec looked down at it with solemn eyes.
"I know what you wanted. You followed your princess to the end. Rest now, mad Marcus."
He released it.
The soul slipped into the decaying heart.
The moment it made contact, the circle blazed to life. Negative energy surged, flooding the chamber with a thick, suffocating pressure.
Then, lines of text flared across Alec's vision—data streaming and pulsing erratically, cataloging every shift in his physical state. He watched it all, unmoving, until he whispered the final word:
"Classbound."
Everything stopped.
The words dissolved into light, reforming into a glowing panel in front of him—his new status screen.
—
Name: Marcus
Race: Undead
Gender: Male
Health: 60%
Class: Necromancer
Rank: 1-Star
Mana: 10%
Skills
Undead Tree:
Undead Fundamentals Lv1
Undead Constitution Lv1
Geographic Lore Lv1
Soul Abilities:
Soul Summon Lv1
Curses:
Basic Hex Lv1
Control:
Command Undead Lv1
Scholar:
Dark Wisdom Lv1
Plaguecraft:
Corpse Toxin Mastery Lv1